Of Hot Days and Hot Rods
by Midnight Raptor
Summary: After a long, hot day at work, Andy needs a ride home. But Sam's means of transportation are a bit more than what she bargained for. Sam/Andy One-shot. Complete.


A/N: Back again guys! This is my second Rookie Blue fic here. I got the idea of this little fic as I was walking out of Best Buy the other day and I saw a nice looking Yamaha sports motorcycle sitting in the parking lot. A little Sam/Andy scene popped in my head as I was driving home so I thought, "Why not?" and I wrote this. It was initially meant to be a little drabble but as you can see it quickly spawned into something else entirely. I realize that "hot rod" is actually a reference to a car but I liked the way it sounded in the title. XD Anyways, please read and review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue. I would, however, love to own the motorcycle I mention in this story. XD

_Of Hot Days and Hot Rods_

"God, I thought this day was never gonna end." Andy groans as they pull into their parking space at the barn.

Cutting the engine, Sam leans his head back against the headrest for a moment. "You and me both, McNally."

It was Day 4 of what had to be the city's worst heat wave in ten years and as her luck would have it, she and Sam had spent the whole day running around the streets of Toronto bringing swift justice to those who had cracked in the 105 degree weather. To make matters worse, the power had decided to go out for half the city during the last few hours of their shift, relegating them to traffic duty as they baked in the sun.

It was due to the impeccable timing of the blackout that she and Sam now found themselves back at the barn a whole five hours after their shift had ended. Not for the first time that day, she silently curses Traci's luck of having managed to secure desk duty today.

"I seriously cannot wait to get home." she says, dragging her tired, sweaty body out of the car. "I don't feel like moving for another half a century."

Sam grins. "As long as that half a century doesn't start until Saturday. We still got a shift tomorrow."

She shoots him a murderous look. "You are such a killjoy."

"I try."

Despite her exhaustion, Andy chuckles at her partner's response. Once inside the station, they head their separate ways, Andy to the women's locker room, Sam to the men's. It being nearly 10:00, the room is nearly empty of her usual co-workers, the night shift now inhabiting most of the space. Despite her earlier sentiments of wanting nothing more than to go home for the day, she makes a beeline for the showers, the need to wash off the sweat that had accumulated during the past 14 hours momentarily overriding the need to curl up in her bed for the next 50 years. As the jet of cool water hits her body, she starts to relax, the stresses of the day slowly fading into nothing more than a distant memory.

Fifteen minutes later, she steps back into the locker room, a towel wrapped securely around herself. The room is now empty, the night shift having made their way out onto the streets by this point and it suddenly occurs to her that with Traci gone for the day (one of the benefits of being detailed to paper pushing), she has no one to ask for a ride home. Well, that isn't quite true. She dresses quickly, hoping she can catch him before he, too, leaves the station. Not caring that her wet hair probably made her look like a drowned rat, she makes her way to the men's locker room.

...

He never thought he'd say this, but right now the station is one of the last places he'd like to be. It had been one hell of a long day exacerbated by the fact that the power, having decided that the heat wasn't nearly enough to try the officers of 15, had cut off for six hours, throwing the city into a whole new level of chaos. And as if the heat and the blackout weren't enough to tax his mind, Andy was now sporting the short sleeved uniform shirt that the senior officers mainly wore. Apparently, Best had decided to supply the rookies with a shirt of their own solely and exclusively for unbearably hot days like these, as opposed to the stifling, long sleeved shirts rookies were to wear. With this sudden change in uniform, Sam now found it increasingly more difficult to keep his eyes away from his rookie's newly exposed tan arms. Of all things to focus on, it was her arms but in his defense, up until a few days ago, she had been covered head to toe in uniform while they were on duty, a fact that he was entirely grateful for as it had allowed him to keep his eyes from wandering her way. But no more.

Pulling on his jeans, he shakes his head in an attempt to clear his mind of the not so pure thoughts he was having about his rookie.

Just then the door opens and the very woman invading his current thoughts peeks her head through the doorway.

"Jeez, Andy. Care to give a little warning next time?"

"Oh, come on." she says, stepping into the locker room. "You're fully dressed."

He raises an eyebrow, amused. Currently, he was standing in only his jeans, his shirt still laying in a heap in his locker. "I'd like to see what underdressed looks like to you."

She rolls her eyes, the playfulness of his voice not lost to her. Admittedly, she probably should've knocked as the sight of seeing him shirtless is now causing her to feel things that she probably shouldn't be feeling considering the fact that he was her T.O. But it's too late to do anything about that now.

A silent smirk grazes his lips when he notices her staring. "Can I help you with something?"

"Uh…" _Idiot_, she mentally berates herself. _Way to make it obvious_. Composing herself, she crosses her arms across her chest and makes an attempt to look unfazed by his current state of undress. "I was just wondering if you could give me a ride. Traci's gone and I can't take another step let alone the 1,000 back to my place."

Had this been any other day, he'd be more than happy to oblige. On this particular day, however, doing such a thing would only exacerbate the unruly thoughts crowding his brain especially considering the manner in which he'd have to take her home…

"Yeah, about that, McNally." he stalls, pulling his shirt over his head. "I, uh…I told Jerry I'd meet him at the Penny tonight."

She gives him a puzzled look. "Jerry called in sick today."

_Damn it_. He was never good at making up excuses on the spot. "Right. Never mind." He tries a different tactic and plasters a cheeky grin on his face. "You sure you trust my driving tonight? After that incident with the Camaro?"

"That was the kid's fault as you were adamant to point out earlier." Stepping forward, she picks up his spare shirt that had fallen on the ground and hands it to him.

"Actually, I don't know if—"

"Please, Sam?"

Looking at her beseeching expression, he's cornered and he knows it. He's always been a sucker for her earnest, hazel eyes. Refusing would be like telling a rambunctious puppy it couldn't play fetch anymore. With a quiet sigh, he slowly nods his head. "Alright, alright. Give me a second."

This earns him a broad smile from Andy. "Thanks, Sam." She watches as he stuffs the rest of his things back in his locker. For someone who loved order in nearly every aspect of his life, his locker certainly didn't seem to apply.

"Head 'em up, rookie." he says, nodding to the door.

They make their way through the quiet station. The power had come back on shortly before they arrived back at the barn but for the sake of the heat, the lights had been left off. Stepping out into the parking lot, they're met by the balmy summer night, a welcome change to the heat that had existed before. When the familiar shiny black paint reaches his eyes, Sam pulls out his keys and stops in front of the vehicle.

Confused, Andy glances sideways at him. "Sam, what is this?"

"It's a motorcycle."

She looks around like this is some practical joke. "Where's your truck?"

"I didn't feel like driving it today. Weather was too nice." Second only to his truck, his 2011 Yamaha YZF-R1 held a special place in his heart and he considered it a terrible shame that he didn't ride it more often.

"And how do you expect me to ride this thing?" Crossing her arms, she gives him her most disdainful look.

He shrugs. "Well, that's what I was trying to tell you earlier. Relax, it's a two-seater."

She stares at him for a second as if still waiting for the punch line. When it doesn't come, she sighs and completely slings her backpack over her shoulders. "I never pegged you as a motorcycle kind of guy."

"Sweetheart, there's a million things you don't know about me." he replies with a cocky grin.

The term of endearment doesn't go unnoticed to her and she promptly rakes a hand through her hair to mask the rising color in her cheeks.

Picking up the helmet sitting on the seat, he tosses it to her and mounts the bike.

At this, she frowns. "What about your helmet?"

"That is my helmet. I didn't exactly plan on giving anyone a ride today, McNally."

She hesitates for a moment. The thought of Sam speeding around unprotected didn't sit too well with her. But the alternative was walking those 12 blocks herself and that was equally unsettling. Making up her mind, she puts the helmet on and approaches the bike, Sam's unreadable gaze following her. He never thought a helmet would look good on someone but on her it looks so damn sexy. He watches as she attempts to get on the bike by placing a foot on the rear wheel.

"You've never been on one of these before, have you?" he remarks, laughing.

She throws him a look. "This wasn't exactly part of the Academy's curriculum."

Knowing better than to tease her further, he points at the passenger foot rest. "Put your right foot there and swing your legs across."

She obeys and a moment later has successfully gotten on. "This doesn't feel safe." she mumbles, taking in her precarious position on the rear of the bike.

He chuckles. "Trust me, Andy." Inserting the key in the ignition, he turns it and the bike immediately rumbles to life. Behind him, Andy makes a small noise of surprise and quickly wraps her arms around his waist, making him painfully aware of how close she is to him. Of course, this goes unnoticed to her, as she's more focused on the feel of his solid back against her chest and firm stomach under her hands with nothing but their t-shirts and his leather jacket separating them.

Forcing himself to focus, he gives the engine a few testing revs, loving the feel of the power of the bike. "Ready?" he asks, turning to look at her.

She nods, ignoring the butterflies erupting in her stomach.

"Relax, okay? You'll be fine." With that, he flips her visor closed and faces forward. His foot finds the kickstand, flicking it up to its resting position, before easing out of the parking space, and speeding out of the lot.

Not used to being so exposed at these speeds, Andy grips Sam even tighter, holding on for dear life as he turns the throttle. Unnoticed to her, Sam smirks. He never thought Andy would be one to cringe at a little speed. However, the increased pressure of her body against his once again has him thinking thoughts he shouldn't be thinking so when they slow to a stop at a red light, he places a hand soothingly on hers, willing her to relax. The feel of his warm fingers over hers immediately settles her nerves and she finds herself releasing her death grip on his shirt. When the light changes to green a moment later, he removes his hand and she instantly misses their presence. But his touch has done its job and as he eases off the brakes and accelerates down the street, she slowly relaxes into him, her head resting lightly on his back. She quickly learns the feel of the bike, banking slightly to the side when he turns, leaning forward when they decelerate to a stop. Despite her initial trepidation, she allows herself the thought that maybe this motorcycle thing isn't so bad.

Several minutes later, having avoided any harrowing encounters with on-coming traffic and still very much in one piece, they pull to a stop in front of her building. Quickly, she dismounts, dearly missing the feel of solid ground under her feet.

Sam hops off the bike with practiced ease after setting the kickstand. "So? How was it?"

She removes the helmet and shakes out her hair, contemplating the question. "Interesting."

"Seriously, McNally?" he replies, looking at her with a mixture of boredom and incredulousness. "You describe your first motorcycle ride as 'interesting?'"

"Well, it was."

He smiles. "That's your way of saying you hated it, huh?"

"I didn't hate it." she defends seriously. "It was just…different."

"Good different or bad different?"

She considers his question. She's never been much of a daredevil. She likes playing things safe, something that applied for nearly every aspect of her life, and the whole "need for speed" thing certainly had no place in her philosophy. But then she remembers the roguish smile he threw her way when he told her to trust him and the feel of his hand on hers, willing her to relax. It was curious that it was the smallest things he did that made her trust him implicitly. She simply felt safe when she was with him. The world could be going to pieces but when he smiled that dimpled smile of his and his eyes glinted with a life of their own, everything else paled in significance. "Good different." she assures him at a length.

"So, would you do it again?" he asks as they walk up the steps to the complex door.

She lets out a short laugh. "Don't push your luck, Swarek. Maybe the next time I'm tired and desperate for a ride."

"Fair enough." he replies with a chuckle of his own.

Having reached the door, she turns to face him. "But seriously. Thank you, Sam. I don't think I would've survived the walk." She grimaces at the thought of that nearly 30 minute journey. "My feet feel like they're made of lead."

He smiles. "Any time. I wouldn't want my rookie collapsing on the side of the road. My paperwork would start piling up."

Laughing, she smacks him playfully on the arm. After four months of being partnered with him, she's grown accustomed to their teasing banter. They look at each other, neither wanting the other to leave. It would be so easy to give in to his warm, dark eyes and invite him in, part of her reasoning that it was the least she could do for troubling him for a ride. But she knows that doing so means leaving herself vulnerable, something that she never likes to feel. Still, she can't bring herself to tear her eyes away from his, their proximity enough to make her body hum with longing, and finds herself unconsciously leaning forward.

Unaware of the conflict going on inside her head, Sam endures a silent one of his own. As soon as she stepped off the bike, he missed the feel of her body pressed against his and right now was doing little to help that fact. Looking down at her moonlit face, he's once again reminded of just how beautiful she is. His eyes dart to her lips, upturned in a small smile, wondering how'd they feel against his. He wants so badly to forget about those stupid rules and sweep her into his arms. But he knows that that line was created for a reason and as much as it pains him to do so, he makes his decision.

"Can I have my helmet back?" he asks quietly, breaking the moment.

She blinks. "What?"

"You're still holding my helmet."

Looking down, she sees the black protective headgear still in her hands. "Oh. Sorry." With obvious reluctance, she hands it back to Sam.

He smiles softly, taking a step back into comfortable territory. "'Night, Andy."

"'Night, Sam." She watches as he heads back down the steps, unable to help herself when a feeling of disappointment settles in her heart.

A thought strikes him and he turns back around. "Need a ride tomorrow?"

"I'd like that." she answers, smiling.

Nodding, he slips the helmet over his head.

"Oh and Sam," she calls out as he straddles the bike and turns the ignition. He looks expectantly up at her. It suddenly occurs to her how ridiculously sexy he looks on his bike, his leather jacket completing the whole "bad boy" persona. Black was definitely his color. "Leave the bike at home." As much as she came to enjoy the ride, she still prefers four wheeled vehicles as means of transportation.

He shoots her a mischievous grin slightly obscured by the helmet but she sees the corners of his eyes crinkle when he does. "You got it."

"Sam…" she begins. But her warning falls on deaf ears when he flips his visor shut, chuckling as he does so. He revs the engine several times, sure to cause a few complaints from her neighbors, before speeding off into the night. She shakes her head, still smiling.

"Men."

* * *

A/N: So? What'd you guys think? I've always thought guys on these kinds of motorcycles were hot so it seemed fitting for Sam haha. Ever since I first saw the YZF-R1 a few years ago, I've always wanted one. But another time, maybe. XD A little trivia: the "Head 'em up." line is a tribute to my 8th grade teacher. It's how he'd call us back to class when we were out in the yard for recess and P.E. Anyways, please take the time to tell me your thoughts. I really do appreciate them. Until next time. :)


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